# theme 0112 ㅤ *ㅤ all american bitch.
— ㅤㅤfeatures.
personal / single muse theme.
different font sizes and options.
visible source link.
best viewed on chrome.
lights on.
— ㅤㅤdimensions.
sidebar ( solid ): 290x320.
side png: 290x320.
icons: 40x40, each.
navigation: 280x170.
muses: 50x50, each.
oc profile: 100x110.
outfit: 200x315.
small accessories: 90x90, each.
shoes: 190x120.
— ㅤㅤterms of use.
please don’t remove the credit. this is not a base code. do not take parts of the code without my permission. do not buy / use if i have you blocked. do not repost. do not use as inspiration.
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JULES JACKSON : ❛ P-please but I'm a prom queen! you can't kill me! ❜
Jules and Kazuo's relationship is a complex web of mutual admiration and unspoken tension. As the school's reigning Prom Queen and picture-perfect jock, they are both aware of their respective popularity and their roles in the social hierarchy. Jules sees Kazuo as the embodiment of physical perfection, a symbol of her own elevated status, and secretly appreciates his presence. On the other hand, Kazuo views Jules as the stunning queen of the school, acknowledging her charm and charisma. However, their interactions are laced with a hint of unspoken attraction, and beneath the facade of their individual perfection lies a curiosity and yearning to explore what exists beyond the surface.
Jules and Jackucho share a complex dynamic within the halls of Copperdale High. As the school's Prom Queen and the peppy cheerleader, they embody two very different aspects of high school popularity. Jules, with her poised demeanor, views Jackucho with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, appreciating her vivacious energy but often finding her overwhelming. In contrast, Jackucho idolizes Jules, perceiving her as the epitome of beauty and grace. She yearns for Jules' attention and seeks to emulate her in every way, with a relentless crush hidden beneath her bubbly exterior. The two girls, despite their differences, navigate the complexities of high school, with their relationship characterized by a blend of amusement, adoration, and a hint of rivalry.
In the eerie and nostalgic setting of "The bay has eyes," Jules embodies the essence of the "Prom Queen" stereotype, echoing the themes of 80s and 90s slasher horror. Despite her seemingly untouchable popularity and poised exterior, her survival in the face of terror is far from guaranteed. Jules doesn't meet her fate early on, but her status as a potential final girl hinges on her resilience and resourcefulness, qualities that become evident as the story unfolds. While she isn't a scream queen in the traditional sense, her charisma and captivating presence lend an air of drama to the unfolding horrors, making her a compelling character.
Jules starts off without a conventional weapon, relying more on her wits and adaptability. Her stats reflect her personality, with high charisma and a good balance of physical attributes, showcasing her athleticism and presence. As the story unfolds, Jules unveils her survival instincts, shedding her prom queen exterior to reveal her inner strength.
Her character is more of a red herring than oblivious, her determination to be crowned prom queen occasionally overshadowing the true nature of the threat. Jules is willing to fight fiercely to attain her desired title, even if it means facing the terrifying dangers of the bay.
Her speed in pursuit is remarkable, a reflection of her athletic prowess and determination, enabling her to outpace danger when the need arises. In the complex world of "The bay has eyes," Jules' character is a layered portrayal of a seemingly perfect prom queen who must dig deep within herself to confront the horrors lurking in the shadows.
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cw/tw. gif(s), child neglect, depiction of starvation & frostbite, suicidal thoughts
꧁
𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐈
Candour of Light and Shadows
Quest Started
I still think
Some people were born a shadow.
"ーHappy birthday, sweetheart!"
"Thanks, mama!"
"May Lady Tsaritsa bless my little snowflake so he grows up big and healthy... And may She protect you from all dangers and surround you with love and happiness!"
"..... Mama, what about-"
"Hold on, darling."
Every year, instead of burning candles, I burn the memories of you.
Every year, instead of huddling in front of a warm fireplace, I relive the memories of the icy grave you call home.
Every year....
I wonder.
Why didn't you just di̴̖̊ë̷̻͙́̒̿̆ that day?
Why did the gods pity you when your own blood couldn't care less?
Why you? Why me? Why us?
I dare not defy the fate bestowed upon me. This is the role we were bestowed with. The second option. The second best. The supporting role.
The shadow.
....
But maybe....
........
Just... maybe.
.............
Maybe all this time, I've been tricking myself, thinking I was undeserving. Of the spotlight. Of the warm fireplace. Of..... a home.
“....”
“Wha....?”
“Happy birthday, Cov!!”
“My my, did we catch you off-guard so much you were about to unsheathe your sword?”
“Ah... I'm..... sorry.......”
“It's fine, it's fine. More importantly, do you like chocolate cakes? I had no idea what kind of cake you'd like but since you love hot chocolate and cookies, I thought you'd like themー”
“......”
“Cov?”
“...........”
“Thank you.”
Maybe one day, I'll be able to feel truly worthy of this.
......
I guess…. Just for today, I can be the light.
𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐈 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞
Candour of Light and Shadows
Quest Completed
[ To be continued(?) ]
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#27
“How’s your food?”
The hero wouldn’t know. Their food is currently going cold in front of them, untouched. The villain, on the other hand, has more or less inhaled theirs.
“Oh, don’t be so dour,” they continue through a mouthful of their dinner. “Agency’s paying for this.”
That much is true. The superhero more or less forced their hand in this, first with promises of time off and a payrise, second with threats of getting fired when the hero didn’t immediately agree. So here they are, in a restaurant they didn’t like the menu of, staring at the food in front of them that’s long stopped steaming, sitting across from the person they want to punch most in the world.
The hero turns their gaze to the doors idly, disinterested. They hope they can go home soon.
“I can’t believe people actually believe you want to help us,” they retort flatly, and the villain frowns innocently.
“I do—that’s why I offered my help.” They say it like it’s obvious, and the hero tuts in annoyance. “That fucker—[Supervillain]—owes me. I’m just getting my own back.”
“He owes you so much you’re trying to set heroes on him,” the hero says disbelievingly, and the villain nods. They train their eyes on the door as well, expectant.
“You think too much, god. Have a drink, loosen up, for both of our sakes.”
The hero glances down at the wine glass on the table, just as untouched as the rest of their dinner. They didn’t like the menu—and honestly this pasta looks wrong somehow—but wine is wine. Hopefully they can have a little faith in something that got here already made.
They swill it in the glass thoughtfully for a moment, staring into the tiny current the movement causes before taking a test sip.
“How is it?” the villain asks hopefully. Their answer comes as the hero tips half the glass into their mouth in one go. To say they look ecstatic would be an understatement. “Oh, wow, must be good.”
It’s okay. It tastes a bit weird, but they imagine everything does here. They don’t care too much – they know they’re meant to be on business, but if they can forget most of the time they’re being forced to spend here it might make it a little better.
They set the glass back on the table with a sigh. The villain watches them eagerly as they lean back in the chair. “Any better?”
“I don’t get drunk off half a glass of wine,” the hero snaps, but they’d be lying to say they don’t feel a little dizzy. “I’m not that much of a lightweight.”
“Shame. Would’ve made for an interesting night if you were.”
The villain goes back to shovelling food into their mouth as the hero heaves a deep breath. They’re feeling worse by the second, the whole world starting to spin nauseatingly, and after a couple of minutes they feel like they’re going to be sick. They lurch to their feet rather suddenly, pulling the villain’s gaze to them in surprise.
“Bathroom,” is all they have time to say before they stagger away from the table and in the vague direction of the signs they saw earlier.
The door bounces off the wall as the hero shoves it open, the clatter it makes against the tile emphasising the headache assaulting them. They stumble to the sinks, shakily turning a tap on and slapping water over their face. It’s refreshing, and it’s only when they feel the cool water on them that they realise how unbearably hot they feel. They have to lean all their weight on the counter to keep themself standing, desperately blinking away the unconsciousness slinking up on them.
They’re barely aware of the door creaking open behind them. There’s movement in the mirror in front of them, though they can barely bring themself to look up beyond the rising sickness. “That wine must’ve been strong,” a familiar voice says from behind them, the sound dulled slightly as if it’s coming from underwater. “You look rough.”
Something—no, that’s someone—touches their shoulder lightly, pulling them away from the counter. They sink to the floor, their support gone, and the villain follows them down worriedly.
“You have a phone, right?” They rummage through the hero’s pockets uninvited. “I’ll call [Superhero]. You really need to go home.”
“Ugh,” is all the response the hero can give them. They can see, somewhat distantly, the villain frowning at their phone in their hand, presumably looking for a contact they can use. They turn away as the door swings open again, and they lean out of the hero’s vision as they get back to their feet.
“What the hell are you doing here?” they snap coldly, and the supervillain hums a laugh.
“Picking up the trash. I knew you’d try to do me in,” he says simply, and he shoves them back to come more into the room. “You’re not the most original criminal, are you?”
There’s a moment of silence, and the lack of anything to concentrate on makes the hero realise how close to passing out they are. “You did this?”
“Who else? You’re too weak to do anything that matters.”
They know it’s not aimed at them, but the last of the hero’s attention is trained on that one sentence as the arguing fades into fuzzy nothingness. You’re too weak to do anything that matters.
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# theme 0110 ㅤ *ㅤ girls capitalism.
— ㅤㅤfeatures.
personal / single muse theme.
different font sizes and options.
visible source link.
best viewed on chrome.
lights off.
— ㅤㅤdimensions.
sidebar: 320x510.
png: 300x300.
icon: 60x60.
navigation: 290x280.
muses: 50x50, each.
oc profile: 100x110.
outfit: 200x315.
small accessories: 90x90, each.
shoes: 190x120.
— ㅤㅤterms of use.
please don’t remove the credit. this is not a base code. do not take parts of the code without my permission. do not buy / use if i have you blocked. do not repost. do not use as inspiration.
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